Sound of Silence
by Calai'di
Summary: Draco Malfoy's only friend was a boy in a diary, a boy who vowed to come back to life for him, even at the cost of another's life. Soon, a revived sixteen year old Tom Riddle makes everything difficult for everyone but the one boy he loves. AU, death, DTR
1. Prologue: Draco's Friend

AN: First of all, this is SLASH, so if you don't like it, don't read. Also, the main pairing is Draco/Tom Riddle, so if you don't like that, don't read it either. I don't mind flames (it's just another review for my review count) since most flames are childish and stupid, but I'd rather not get them.

Anyway, the idea for this came from another fic called "Playmate" by Chainlinks (and it's very cute so everyone should go and read it!). But I decided that it would be more interesting for Tom to live at the end of CoS instead of die, so that's what'll happen here. Enjoy!

Warnings: Character death, AU, slash

* * *

**Sound of Silence**

**Prologue: Draco's Friend**

When Draco was six, he snuck into his father's study and stole a small diary as a prize.

It wasn't an important diary, black and nondescript. Draco flipped through it long enough to see that no one had written in it except for the small name "T. M. Riddle" in faded ink on the first page. An hour after he'd stolen it, he forgot about it.

A year later, he found it again in a stack of old picture books he planned to throw away. Obviously, he did not want to throw his treasure away, thus he hid it under his pillow so the house elves wouldn't find it when they came to take away the picture books and give him new ones.

That night, he pulled out the diary and looked over it again. After a moment, he decided that it was quite wasteful to let the diary remain empty and found a quill and ink so he could try writing in it himself in jerky handwriting.

"July 9, 1987

"To-day I found this book again and wanted to write in it."

He paused to think of something else to write, since that didn't seem like enough. When he glanced down at the diary again, he was startled to see that his words were gone. In their place, a line was written in very neat handwriting.

"_Is it really '87 already?"_

Draco excitedly read the words before they faded away and wrote back, "Who are you?"

"_My name is Tom Riddle. What is yours?"_

"I'm Draco Malfoy," Draco wrote proudly.

"_How did you come by my diary, Draco?"_

This time Draco paused before he answered. Should he really tell this stranger what he'd done? But then he decided that a person in a book couldn't tell his father what he'd done and replied, "I stole it out of my father's study."

"_I'm glad you did,"_ came Tom's reply._ "I've been very lonely waiting for someone to write to me. No one has in fifty years."_

Draco's eyes widened. Fifty _years_? He couldn't even imagine an amount of time that long, but it must have been awful being alone with no one to talk to. "Can I be your friend?" he asked.

"_Of course, Draco. I should like that very much."

* * *

_

The next year passed quickly for Draco. He wrote to Tom in the diary every day, sometimes for hours, since his only other regular friends, Vincent and Gregory, were hardly worth the effort it took to have a conversation with them. He liked Blaise and Theodore much better than them, but they hardly ever visited, so he pretended sometimes that Tom was one of them writing to him through special parchment and didn't miss them so much.

He didn't do this often, however; he liked Tom the way he was. Tom didn't care that he was only seven and had just learned to fly when Blaise had known for years, or that he sometimes got behind in his studies when Theo was ahead of him by half a year. Tom always listened patiently to what he wrote, and replied kindly sometimes and sympathetically at others. Sometimes what he wrote was harsh and Draco would throw the diary across the room, but by the next day, he'd forgotten about it.

He found out how old Tom was on his eighth birthday.

He was supposed to be sleeping, but he was so excited that he was another year older and had received so many presents that he couldn't help but tell Tom all about it. He wrote for ages about his party and who had come and what presents he'd gotten, hardly noticing when Tom commented every so often.

"Can you believe it? I'm eight years old now!" he concluded finally.

"_It is so odd to hear of you aging. I have not aged at all since I made this diary."_

"How old are you?" Draco wrote curiously.

"_I was sixteen when I made the diary. My self outside the diary would be just over fifty now."_

"You're twice as old as I am!" Draco observed proudly. He'd been learning multiplication recently with is tutor and could do such simple math in his head now.

"_Yes, I am, very good, Draco. Your mother must be very proud of you."_

Draco frowned in thought before he answered. "I think she is. She never says so, but she always looks like it."

"_I'm sure she is. And I am proud of you, too. Now, what time is it?"_

"After ten," Draco wrote back sheepishly.

"_Go to bed now. You can tell me more tomorrow."

* * *

_

Draco was sure he was in love with Tom when he was ten, and he told the other boy as much. Tom assured him it was just a passing fancy and he'd be 'in love' with someone else next week, but Draco was sure he was wrong. He longed for the older boy to become real somehow so they could touch each other, and he was constantly terrified that one day the diary would disappear and Tom would be gone.

"Isn't there any way you could get a real body?" Draco wrote one afternoon after another long discussion about his feelings.

"_I don't know. I haven't thought about it much. I suppose it would be possible."_

"Could you do it?"

"_I'll have to think about it, Draco. Truthfully, I'm not too fussed about leaving. It's not so bad being a memory."_

Draco knew he was lying because Tom began turning their conversations back toward that idea more and more often after that.

* * *

Draco knew Tom loved him back when he was eleven. Tom didn't say it outright, and Draco would have gotten very suspicious if he had, but Tom certainly acted like it.

It started on Draco's first day of school. He'd managed to smuggle the diary into his bag without his parents or the house elves seeing it, and had written in it during most of the ride to school. Then, as soon as he'd heard Harry Potter, _the_ Harry Potter, was on the train as well, he'd said goodbye to Tom and left to go see.

Tom was not pleased that night when Draco pulled the diary out again.

"_So, what was he like, this Harry Potter of yours? Was he worth leaving me alone again?"_

"No, I hate him," Draco answered. He was still fuming about how Potter had coldly turned him down, as though he were worthless. "He's arrogant and self-centred, and I hate him."

"_Serves you right, I think, for leaving me. You know no one else will ever understand you the way I do."_

Draco blinked and stared down at the words, even once they'd faded away again. "Are you jealous?"

"_Of a snivelling little brat? Of course not. Why should I be? What House was he sorted into?"_

"Gryffindor," Draco wrote back, though a smile was forming on his lips. "You_ are_ jealous of him. You're jealous that as soon as I heard he was on the train, I wanted to pay more attention to him then you."

"_I'm not jealous. He's nothing for me to be jealous of. He wasn't even sorted into the proper House. He's worthless."_

But Draco had learned how to tell when Tom was lying, and he certainly was now. Tom was incredibly jealous of Potter for stealing Draco's attention, and Draco felt that this proved Tom cared for him, at least a little.

He made a point that year to be as nasty as possible to Potter, then told Tom all about it afterward. Each time he did, Tom seemed to grow more and more jealous, until finally, on Draco's twelfth birthday, Tom wrote the words he'd been waiting two years to read.

"_I'm coming out of the diary, Draco."_

"You are? When?" Draco asked eagerly. This had to be the best present he'd ever gotten.

"_Soon. It will require careful planning. And I will have to kill someone. Are you ready to have blood on your hands, Draco?"_

"I wouldn't be killing him, though," Draco protested, a little less enthused now.

"_You would be partially responsible. Well, Draco? Would you be able to handle that?"_

Draco thought for a moment about what would be worse, killing someone, or Tom staying in the diary forever. The latter option certainly seemed worse.

"What do I have to do?" Draco finally asked.

Tom detailed his careful plan out to Draco, and the blond made sure to write it all down, since the first item on the list was to return the diary to his father's study. He then had to make subtle suggestions to his father that the school was overrun with Mudbloods and that Potter would need another challenge this year and wouldn't it be great if Dumbledore was sacked, since the biggest part of the plan was getting Tom to school in someone else's hands. Lucius knew that the diary held the answer to opening the Chamber of Secrets, so if he could be convinced to give the diary to someone else under the impression that it would make sure the Chamber was opened that year, that was what had to be done.

Draco cheered inwardly when he saw his father slip the diary into Ginny Wealsey's Transfiguration book. His father couldn't have picked a better person to give the diary to; now not only would Tom gain a body, he'd kill a blood-traitor at the same time.


	2. Hello Darkness

**Sound of Silence**

**Chapter I: Hello Darkness**

Draco waited anxiously in the common room one night in late May, miraculously the only student there. None of the other Slytherins seemed to find the news that a student had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself very important at all and had gone to bed already. Draco was the only one that knew that Tom had finally made his move and could be coming back to life any minute now.

He wasn't sure what he was waiting for. Perhaps it was for Professor Snape to come into the common room with news as to whether the Wealsey girl was alive or dead. Perhaps it was for Tom himself to walk into the room with that news. Either way, he couldn't help but pace nervously in front of the fireplace, waiting for something.

"Ah, you must be Draco. You look just like a Malfoy."

Draco paused and turned at the unfamiliar voice. Standing not a metre away was a tall, very handsome boy who looked not a day older than sixteen.

"Tom...?" Draco whispered, hardly able to believe it. He'd been sure that somehow, Tom's plan had been foiled and he'd never speak to the older boy again.

Tom nodded, a very faint smile touching his lips. "Did you doubt me, Draco? I feel I should be disappointed in you."

Draco laughed and ran forward, attaching himself to Tom in a tight hug. He'd been so afraid, so afraid, but everything was all right now; everything was the way it should be.

"I'm so glad to see you!" Draco exclaimed when he finally let go of Tom and slid back down to the floor. "I thought I'd never hear from you again! What happened in the Chamber?"

"It's a long story, young Malfoy, one that is not for telling in the common room," Tom answered, glancing around with a frown. "A girl has been killed, and Dumbledore will likely get suspicious of what really transpired down there. Let's go to your dorm."

Draco nodded and led Tom down the stairs to his dorm room, almost feeling as though he should be showing off the place even though Tom had been in Slytherin when he'd gone to Hogwarts. He made sure his dorm mates were fast asleep before gesturing that it was safe for Tom to come inside and led the older boy over to his bed. Tom smiled again when he looked around.

"The same bed I slept in while I was here," Tom murmured as they sat down. "Such a coincidence. Hand me your wand."

Draco gave it to him immediately. Tom pulled the curtains shut around them and spelled them block any sound from inside and to ward off other people.

"Now, I believe you wished to know what happened down in the Chamber," Tom said as he gave the wand back to Draco. Draco nodded eagerly.

"Your plan obviously worked out."

"Not completely," Tom murmured. "Did you know that Harry found my diary a few months ago?"

"Yes," Draco answered soberly. "I tried to take it from him, but Percy Weasley got in the way."

Tom shook his head. "I am glad that he did. I wanted to talk to Harry very much. I told him enough that he would not get in the way, but perhaps I told him too much. He nearly destroyed me tonight."

Draco paled and stared at him in horror. "_Destroyed_...?"

"Yes, nearly. At the moment, he believes that he managed it. Dumbledore, I fear, will not believe so easily." Tom shifted into a more comfortable position before speaking again.

"You know, of course, that Ginny Weasley was the one who received my diary. She started writing to me as soon as the second day of school, complaining about all sorts of things. She certainly was not as interesting to listen to as you."

Tom chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers up Draco's spine. "You wouldn't believe how easy she was to manipulate. I simply told her what she wanted to hear and she was eating out of my hand in no time. Such a pitiful little girl.

"So, I grew stronger as she poured out her soul to me, until I was strong enough to take control of her body for short periods of time. I was, admittedly, surprised by how quickly this happened, less than two months I believe. I thought it would take at least three, but her mind was weak and she gave into me almost instantly. But that suited me just fine; the weaker and quicker to give in, the better."

"I know all that," Draco said quickly, stifling his annoyance for Tom's sake. "What happened tonight?"

Tom smiled faintly. "You're so impatient, Draco. Very well, I shall move on to tonight's events." Tom's smile grew larger, as though he were remembering something particularly pleasant. "This morning, Ginny nearly ruined everything by trying to tell Harry about what was going on. I decided that it would be appropriate to finally make my move to silence her. I had Miss Weasley write her own farewell on the wall and go down into the Chamber to wait for Harry to show up. She'd told me that he fancies himself a detective and has quite the hero complex, though not in those exact words. I knew that if one of his precious friends was in danger, he would give up life and limb to rescue her.

"He arrived just as I had hoped. By that time, I had absorbed enough of Miss Wealsey's life force to come out of the diary, though I was not yet alive. He grew quite angry with me once I explained what I had done, but obviously, he was no match for me. I had his wand and Slytherin's Serpent at my disposal, and Ginny was steadily growing weaker."

Tom's face suddenly contorted into an ugly look. "Then that stupid phoenix of Dumbledore's arrived. It nearly ruined everything. It blinded my basilisk–yes, Slytherin's hidden creature was a basilisk, don't look so shocked; I'd be disappointed if you hadn't already figured that out–and brought the Sorting Hat with it, which somehow provided Harry with a sword. Harry then killed my basilisk, but–" here Tom's lips curled in an awful smile again– "one of the basilisk's fangs pierced his arm and we both thought he was dead."

"He's not dead?" Draco said in surprise. "But basilisk venom kills in less than a minute!"

"No, he is not dead. The phoenix healed him before he could die. However, it gave me the time I needed to finish perfecting my plan. I shifted the part of the magic of the diary that bound me to it to Ginny's life instead. Therefore, if the diary was destroyed, Ginny would perish with it and give me her remaining life. Of course, Harry did destroy the diary; I never doubted for an instant that he would."

Draco blanched again, this time looking sick rather than horrified. "_Potter_ killed Wealsey?"

"Yes, brilliant, isn't it? I made sure to act as though he had actually destroyed me and hid in the shadows to watch what he would do. Naturally, he became quite distraught when he discovered that 'killing' me had not saved her after all. I am sure he thinks that she was so near death and so connected to me when he destroyed the diary that I took her with me." Tom smirked, raising a hand and turning it over slowly. "Clearly, he is completely mistaken."

"So what happened next?" Draco asked eagerly, forcing himself not to dwell on the fact that Weasley was dead. "What did Potter do?"

"He called the phoenix down to try and heal her, which failed. I have her life now; even a phoenix cannot bring back the dead. Then he cried over her for a minute, but he quickly realized that would solve nothing and carried her out of the main chamber.

"I did not follow him; that would have been foolish. Instead, I took a passage that I knew led to another one connected to the common room, one I knew could only be opened from inside. I probably arrived there before Harry set a foot in the Headmaster's office. And now, here I am."

"What do you think Dumbledore will do now?" Draco asked in a hushed voice.

"He will likely search the school for me, including the Houses," Tom answered, sounding completely unconcerned. "But once that is finished, he will be forced to accept that my destruction is a possibility."

"He won't think you're really gone?" Draco said in confusion.

Tom shook his head. "Dumbledore knows me too well, and I him. He will be sure for quite some time that I am still alive, until we prove him wrong."

Draco opened his mouth eagerly, but Tom placed a finger to his lips and gave him a stern look to quiet him. The older boy jerked his head to the side to indicate that he should listen to the voices now travelling down the stairwell.

"I'm telling you, Albus," snarled a voice Draco instantly recognized as Snape, "he's not here. Potter destroyed him, and that's that."

"We cannot be sure of that, Severus," replied Dumbledore's voice. "We cannot underestimate Tom."

"Quickly, your wand," Tom hissed, his hand grabbing the wand from Draco almost before it was handed to him. He tapped the curtains twice, then himself and instantly disappeared. The wand was shoved back into Draco's hands, and he felt Tom's weight leave the bed. Quickly cottoning on, Draco pulled off his robes and dived under the covers, his eyes closing just as the door to the dorm room opened.

"How can you not be sure?" Snape demanded as Dumbledore strode into the room. "So a girl has been killed; the diary was destroyed, and Potter said he saw the Dark Lord vanish before his eyes!"

"It is that fact that she was killed that worries me. She should not have been if Tom is truly dead."

Draco heard Vincent groan in the bed next to his and figured that he himself probably would have woken to all this noise as well.

"Come out, Tom!" Dumbledore called out, sounding commanding and terrible at once. "Your game is up! Hiding will do you no good!"

"Why would the Dark Lord be so foolish as to come back to his old House?" Snape was protesting now. "Why don't you search Gryffindor? If he's really alive, he'd head up there to finish off Potter."

"You do not know Tom as I do, Severus. He would find Slytherin House a very fitting place to hide out."

Draco chose this moment to groan softly and slowly pull his curtains open, blinking sleepily. "Headmaster? Professor? What's going on?"

Dumbledore glanced at him and sighed, shaking his head. "It's nothing to worry about, Draco. Forgive us for waking you." And with that, he strode back out of the room.

"Go back to sleep, Draco," Snape ordered before he, too, swept out of the room.

Draco waited a moment and almost sighed in relief, but an invisible hand darted out from under his bed to grasp his wrist to stop him. A second later, a wave of magic flowed through the room, making him shutter and the hand grasp his wrist tighter. He heard Dumbledore and Snape march past the door again, and shortly after, the door of the Slytherin common room slid shut.

"Ngh...what's going on...?" murmured a voice from across the room.

"It's nothing, Blaise, go back to sleep," Draco answered automatically, though he hardly needed to; not a second after Blaise posed his question, soft snores could be heard from his bed again.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief as the invisible hand finally let go of him. "That was close," he muttered as Tom's weight settled on the bed again. He held out his wand without being asked and smiled when his friend took it.

"Yes, the Headmaster seems to know me quite well," Tom said calmly as he reappeared. "He is not clever enough for me, however. I can see his tricks before he tries them."

"Did you feel that...wave?" Draco asked, unsure of how else to describe it.

Tom nodded gravely. "He was searching for any magical signatures that did not belong."

Draco paled for the third time that night. "But then–"

"Do you underestimate me as well? Really, Draco, I'm disappointed," Tom said, an eyebrow raised. "I charmed myself so that my magic was hidden from him. He could not sense me."

Draco flushed faintly and looked guiltily down at the bed. "Sorry, I was just worried."

"Who was the other man? 'Severus,' I think he was called."

"Oh, that's Professor Snape," Draco said, relieved that Tom had done nothing but reprimand him for his mistake. "He's the Potions Master and the Head of Slytherin House."

Tom nodded again, this time silently, his face emotionless. He suddenly looked back to Draco and frowned. "You should follow his advice and go to sleep. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Where are you going to sleep?" Draco asked as he pulled the covers up over his shoulders.

"I haven't decided yet. But before you found me, I had little else to do, so I'm not so inclined to sleep again for a while." Tom smiled very faintly as he warded the curtains again and pulled them closed. "I will be here when you wake, Draco. Now go to sleep."

Draco smiled with glee when Tom learned over a pressed a very light kiss to his forehead. He was sure Tom hadn't even realized he'd done it. But as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, he was also sure that he'd never been happier.

* * *

Tom's smile turned cruel as the Malfoy boy's breathing slowed and he drifted off into sleep. It was a simple task manipulating this boy, far easier than it had been controlling Ginny Weasley. Ginny had never trusted him completely, even when he'd reached the point where possession was possible. Draco trusted him utterly and completely; Tom had no doubt that if he wished it, Draco would die for him without a second thought.

And yet...

Tom reached over and briefly ran his fingers through Draco's silky blond hair, frowning contemplatively. He'd never been able to take over Draco the way he had with Ginny. He'd never even felt the same connection between them; while he'd been able to feel Ginny's life force flowing between them whenever she wrote in the diary, Draco's had not, and that confused him greatly. There had been nothing different between their two meetings, and Draco had been with him much longer than Ginny had. Yet it was Ginny who lay dead in the Headmaster's office, while Draco lay here in his old bed sleeping peacefully.

Tom's fingers absently caressed the wand they still held as he observed the sleeping younger boy. The next day certainly would be busy, and not just by staying under Dumbledore's radar. He had plans to concoct, reading to do, a Potions Master to speak with, and a young hero to observe. He smiled to himself as he set the wand down on Draco's nightstand and lay down next to the blond. He loved it when he could afford to be so busy.

* * *

When Draco woke the next morning, he was surprised to find that his bed was much warmer than usual, due to a second occupant, whom he was currently curled up against. He blushed and nervously shifted away from Tom, hoping that his movements wouldn't accidentally wake the older boy. He'd thought maybe Tom would conjure an invisible bed for himself or something, not sleep with him in his.

However, Tom hardly twitched in response to Draco's movements, and Draco felt it would be safe to actually get out of bed to prepare for the day. After a moment's hesitation, he left his wand next to Tom on the bed and headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

When he finished and came back out, his roommates were only just beginning to wake, and his curtains were closed again. He didn't bother to open them, unwilling to possibly disturb Tom in whatever he was doing. He didn't need them open to dress, anyway.

"You take a while to get ready in the morning."

Draco startled violently and whipped around to stare at a spot where he thought Tom might be. The older boy had Disillusioned himself already, so it was hard to tell, or it would have been if Tom weren't chuckling softly.

"Stop it, you really startled me!" Draco hissed after a moment, annoyed in spite of himself. The snickers stopped far too slowly for his taste and he found himself actually glaring at Tom for it.

"You have a lot of nerve to look at me like that," Tom commented casually once he'd calmed down. "I admire that."

Draco paled slightly and immediately looked away, unsure of whether Tom actually meant that as a compliment or a warning. The tone of his voice could have indicated either.

"I'm going to go up to breakfast with you," Tom said after a moment, "but not classes. I'll need to know the password to the common room."

"It's 'pure-blood,'" Draco said as he pulled his robes on. "What are you going to do while I'm in class?"

"Various things," Tom answered vaguely. He stood, stretched, and headed over to the door. "Come, I want to get there early. Here, your wand."

Draco took his wand from the Disillusioned hand and pocketed it as he eagerly followed Tom out the door.

Not surprisingly, they were among the first students to step into the Great Hall. When they arrived, only about five or six other students were there, most of them older Ravenclaws who believed in waking up at the crack of dawn to take advantage of as many hours of the day as possible. And while these students couldn't possibly have known about the tragedy of the previous night, the feeling in the hall was nevertheless quite subdued. Perhaps it was because the teachers had adopted that attitude; indeed, even McGonagall looked as though she'd spent most of the night crying.

Tom eagerly scanned the staff table as he followed Draco into the hall, taking in the changes. He hardly recognized any of the faces there; only Dumbledore looked familiar, and hardly any of the older teachers looked old enough to have gone to school, or even been born, while he was. He smirked to himself; hiding in this time might be easier than he'd expected.

"Are you going to eat?" Draco murmured as he sat down and Tom paused to stand behind him.

"No, it's too dangerous. I'll go eat in the kitchens later."

"Oh, okay." Draco shrugged and began piling sausages onto his plate.

Tom watched the few early risers trickle in with only detached interest. It was remarkable how little Hogwarts had changed in fifty years. Of course, he didn't have time to marvel over the similarities and differences; once he no longer had to hide, he could relax and wonder all he liked.

Draco's started slightly when an invisible hand suddenly touched his shoulder. "Look," Tom's voice hissed in his ear, "the hero has arrived."

Draco looked up in surprise; Potter never arrived at breakfast with more than fifteen minutes to eat. Nor had he ever come without his pet Weasel or Mudblood. However, that was exactly what Potter was doing as he strode across the hall alone and with an hour for breakfast.

For someone who thought he'd just saved the wizarding world again, Potter looked awfully depressed. His head was bowed and his stance was clearly that of a man defeated. Also, it looked as though he'd never gone back to his dorm the previous night, because his robes were still torn and bloodstained, and his skin was still filthy. In spite of this, as he sat down, he glanced toward the Slytherin table, and Draco saw not only grief and guilt but angry defiance in his tear streaked face.

Tom made a soft, thoughtful sound behind him, and Draco knew the older boy was studying Potter carefully, looking for what he didn't know. He personally didn't care much for Potter, even as a rival, but it would be interesting to see how he acted during breakfast.

The Weasel and Mudblood hurried in after only a few minutes, both looking as though they might cry any moment. Draco was sorely disappointed to see Granger; he supposed the Petrified students had been successfully revived after all. Potter hardly moved to acknowledge their presence when they sat down, and Tom let out another faint noise.

Once everyone had settled down to breakfast, Dumbledore stood and the entire hall fell silent. He regarded them all gravely before speaking in a soft voice that nevertheless penetrated the entire hall.

"There is much I would like to say to you all this morning," he began, "regarding a fine student who should be sitting here with us. Many of you are probably not even aware that her presence is missing yet." He nodded toward the Gryffindor table where Potter and his group of lackeys sat.

"This student exemplified many of the qualities of her House of Gryffindor, like her brothers and parents before her. She was naturally brave and quite fearless, and though she was often overshadowed by her brothers, she never let that dictate what she was actually capable of. I have no doubt that if she were still with us, she would have grown into a exceptional member of our society.

"However, last night, Miss Ginevra Weasley of Gryffindor was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

Draco rolled his eyes as a panicked whisper swept through the other students, a few of them even screaming. Really, what was so terrible about a name?

Dumbledore waited calmly for the whispers to subside before he continued, "This year, Lord Voldemort took on a much different form than before, that of himself while he was still at school. With this disguise, he managed to walk the halls of Hogwarts with no one the wiser and set the monster of Slytherin upon our students."

Whispers erupted again at this. Behind him, Draco heard Tom hiss in an almost disbelieving voice, "No..."

"Yesterday, Voldemort captured Ginny and took her down into the Chamber of Secrets. I am told that she fought like a true Gryffindor. However, Voldemort spares no one and she died by his hand."

At the Gryffindor table, Potter's head suddenly turned toward the Headmaster when before he'd been staring at his plate. Draco could tell even from a distance that the expression on Potter's face was that of disbelief.

"Another person must be mentioned in connection with Ginny's death," Dumbledore continued. "I am talking, of course, of Harry Potter.

"Harry risked life and limb last night to rescue Ginny. He not only escaped Voldemort, but destroyed the monster of Slytherin as well. And while he did not manage to save Ginny's life, he tried everything he could to do so. He showed the kind of bravery and cool headedness that exceedingly few wizards in his position could manage to summon. For this, I honour him."

Dumbledore raised his glass to Harry and drank to him. Nearly everyone in the Great Hall followed suit, though much of the movement was subdued. Draco didn't even touch his glass.

"The Ministry of Magic does not wish for me to tell you all of this," Dumbledore went on. "They feel that this should be a private affair, known only by Ginny's family and friends. However, I feel that would be an insult to Ginny's memory. It would also put all of you at danger, for I have very good reason to believe that the incarnation of Voldemort that murdered Ginny is still among us."

"No..." Tom whispered again, sounding as though one of his careful plans had just been shattered to pieces. Draco, rather than feeling horrified and confused like the other students, felt intense anger toward Dumbledore for revealing them so soon.

"In his younger days, Voldemort was known as Tom Riddle," Dumbledore said, seemingly oblivious to the tense atmosphere in the hall. "He may still be using that name to hide among us. If any of you sees someone you believe should not be here, I would like you to report it to one of the teachers or myself at once. We must constantly be on the alert from now on. Tom is a cunning individual, a true Slytherin, and may do almost anything to make sure he stays hidden."

"You're damn right I will," Tom hissed under his breath, audible only to Draco.

"Tomorrow, the train will be leaving to take all of you back home."

Draco blinked; that was news to him. They hadn't even taken exams yet.

"While you are still here, I would like all of you to remember Miss Ginny Weasley. Remember that sometimes it is the most undeserving, most innocent of us who become victims. Remember a girl who was just starting out at Hogwarts, who was bright, and brave, and charming. Remember that when the choice comes down to what is easy and what is right, an innocent who was sacrificed to a madman. Remember Ginny."

* * *

Tom cursed his old Transfiguration teacher with every fibre of his being as he made his way through the dungeons toward the Potions classroom. His anger wasn't even directed only toward Dumbledore's warning about his still being alive. He was also annoyed that they would have to leave Hogwarts the next day, leaving him very little time to set his master plan in motion.

A master plan that began with speaking to the new Potions teacher, Severus Snape. If he were in his own time, he would never have considered what he was about to do, since he barely trusted Professor Slughorn. Snape, however, was clearly a Dark wizard and seemed to dislike Dumbledore quite a lot. Also, Draco seemed to think very highly of him, and he trusted Draco's judgement. Of course, he detested having to lean on someone else for support, but loosing a small amount of pride was a small price to pay.

He carefully walked past the Potions classroom, smirking slightly when he heard shrieks through the heavy door. First or second years, probably Hufflepuffs, he thought. Idiots, the lot of them. He made his way to where Slughorn's office was in his time, figuring that Snape would have kept it there out of simplicity. Then he leaned back against the wall and waited, finalizing his plans in his head.

He only had to wait fifteen minutes for break and another for Snape to stride down the hall toward him and the office. He slipped inside after the Potions Master, careful to let the door shut on its own, and looked around curiously. The office had changed from Slughorn's time, but he found he preferred Snape's darker, more disturbing idea of decorations than his old teacher's flashy ones.

Snape immediately walked over to his desk and set down, pulling a stack of papers forward so he could begin to grade them. He didn't have the chance, however, as Tom chose that moment to speak.

"Good morning, Professor Snape."

Snape was on his feet in an instant, his wand out before Tom could register that he'd drawn it. Tom absently admired this; he'd been right about this professor.

"Who goes there?" Snape demanded, keeping his wand still rather than waving it about.

Tom smiled faintly. "You'll have to take my Disillusionment Charm off, sir. I'm afraid I don't have a wand to do it myself," he said, shifting slightly so Snape would be able to see where he was for an instant.

Snape scowled and stepped forward, awkwardly tapping Tom on the head with his wand. His scowl only deepened when Tom became visible again. "Who are you? What are you doing in my office?"

Tom quirked an eyebrow. "Weren't you listening to Dumbledore's speech this morning, sir? I believe I was mentioned numerous times."

Snape paled and took an extremely small step backward. "You're Tom Riddle. Albus was right; you are still alive."

"Yes, Dumbledore has always been rather perceptive when it comes to me," Tom answered with a soft scowl at the thought. Then he shook his head, murmuring, "I'm not here to prove my existence to you. I am here to ask several favours of you."

Snape slowly seemed to relax and nodded brusquely. "I'll ward the door. Have a seat."

Tom lowered himself into one of the few chairs in the room, watching Snape with amusement. "You won't turn me into Dumbledore then?"

"No," Snape answered curtly. He tapped the door several times in different patterns before turning back to his guest. "Albus does not need to know of everything that goes on in this school."

"Oh? I'm glad someone knows that. Even in my day, he felt the entire school was his responsibility."

"And I was loyal to the Dark Lord before he fell," Snape added as he walked back over and resumed his seat. "You may confide in me. I will let Albus know nothing of it."

Tom's lips curled in a smile. "Good. Then I was correct in placing my trust in you." He leaned forward slightly, going on, "I require your assistance in several matters. First and foremost is how I am to hide here in Hogwarts for the next few years."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Snape said calmly with the air of someone used to speaking openly.

"There is someone here I must not leave until he is out of school," Tom answered with a faint frown. "Two someones, actually, but that brings us to the second matter when we have not discussed the first."

Snape frowned thoughtfully, tapping his lips with his finger. "Polyjuice Potion would be the simplest, least detectible method, though it would mean keeping someone captive for a fair amount of time."

Tom nodded once. "Yes, I had thought of that. I'd prefer not to rely on a potion for my safety. Potions can be altered, poisoned. It would not be the safest method."

Snape looked him over and shook his head. "And it would be difficult to glamour you effectively for you to come as a new student."

"Yes, I had thought of that as well. And Dumbledore would be able to see through a glamour, I'm sure. He can see through a great number of tricks."

"I may be able to provide you with rooms here in the dungeons that Albus does not know about," Snape suggested after a moment. "Or you could use the Chamber of Secrets or the many secret passages as a hideout."

"I think I would like the rooms," Tom answered.

Snape nodded once. "I'll see to it that they're arranged adequately for you."

"Good. Now, the second matter. I need you to be more pleasant to Harry from now on."

Snape lost his careful composure at that and stared at Tom in shack. "Potter?"

"The same. It's necessary that he feel comfortable among the Slytherins, especially you." Tom's eyes narrowed slightly. "This is not a request, Snape; it is an order. Unless you're not quite as loyal as you claim to be..."

"My loyalty remains unwavering, my lord," Snape said quickly, bowing very slightly, though he still looked bewildered. "I only meant to wonder why it is necessary for Potter to be comfortable among us. He is a danger to you."

Tom smiled a very small, cruel smile. "You did not see his face last night. When I suggested that we are similar, he seemed rather horrified, as though I were voicing one of his greatest secrets. And we are alike, in many ways. Too many."

"You want him to join you," Snape said in sudden revelation.

"'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,'" Tom said with a slight nod. "If I am to succeed in my domination of the wizarding world this time, I will need Harry by my side. It will be much easier bending his will to mine than it would be to gain Dumbledore's support."

"Except that he hates you," Snape pointed out dryly. "You killed his parents and the sister of his best friend, not to mention tried to kill him several times."

"Which is why I'm not the one who's going to turn him against the Light. I know someone whom he hates far less than me who will be perfectly willing to become his friend for my sake."

"Who?" Snape asked curiously.

Tom shook his head. "That is not for you to know. It is enough that you know of him."

Snape bowed his head submissively. "I will do as you have asked."

"I can see why my future self placed his trust in you," Tom said with a faintly malicious smirk. "Which brings me to my last request. You are, always have been, and always will be loyal to me alone, is that right, Snape?"

"Always," Snape answered with a confused frown.

"Then I will need you to begin researching ways to get rid of Dumbledore once and for all. I can't have him around when I finally begin my second conquest, and I can't have him corrupting Harry before then."

"Of course," Snape said with another small bow, a cruel smile threatening to form on his lips. "That I will do with pleasure."

"I thought you might," Tom replied, his own smile clearly visible. He stood and gestured for Snape to follow his over to the door. "I may call on you again sometime soon, though I shall hope I won't need to until next year."

"I'll have the rooms you asked for ready for you by then," Snape said as he tapped his wand on the door, removing the wards. Without a word, he Disillusioned his new master as well once he was done.

"Thank you, Snape," said Tom's disembodied voice. The Potions Master merely bowed again as Tom silently left the room, moving down the hall with as much stealth as he'd employed before. Tom smirked to himself as he headed out of the dungeons toward the marble stairs. If he was lucky, he could spend the next several hours reading new books in the library.

* * *

"I don't understand," Draco muttered as he and Tom climbed into a carriage. He glared at anyone who tried to get in as well and shut the door to make sure they stayed alone. Tom had just explained his plan for getting Potter to come over to their side as they walked down to the horseless carriages, and Draco was having a couple problems with it.

"What don't you understand?" Tom asked, faintly annoyed.

"Why do you want _Potter_? He'll just mess everything up. And why do _I_ have to talk to him?"

Tom smiled very faintly, more amused than genuinely annoyed. He'd had a feeling they'd encounter this problem. "I need Harry to join me because he is Harry Potter. He has influence, power, and is still young enough to be influenced himself. If we leave him to grow the way he has been, he will be fully opposed to us in only a couple years. Then, he will mess everything up. We must prevent that."

"But why does it have to be me?" Draco whined softly, trying not to sound too rude to the older boy. "Potter hates me. He'll never listen to me."

"You've only known each other two years, and the most you've done to each other is land each other in detention," Tom answered calmly. "Not to mention you've been a constant in his life for that long. He trusts you to some degree. And obviously I can't talk to him."

"But Tom–"

"Are you going to refuse me, Draco?" Tom asked, his voice dangerously low. Draco eyes widened and he shook his head frantically.

'No, I'm sorry. I'll do it." Draco glared bitterly out the window at the other carriages as they came to a stop. "I don't like it, but I'll do it."

"I knew you would," Tom said. Draco smiled faintly at the approval in his voice as he opened the door of the carriage. He followed Tom out of the carriage into the swarming crowd of students, keeping close to the older boy in case he had more instructions.

"You need to get a compartment of your own," Tom whispered as they boarded the train. "I don't want any of your friends interrupting us."

Draco nodded just as Pansy came bouncing over to him. "Draco! We've got a compartment already! Over here!"

"Sorry, Pansy," Draco said with a faint smile. "I want to sit by myself today."

"But Draco–"

"I'll see you over the summer, okay?" Draco said, shaking his head.

Pansy pouted, looking confused, but nodded. "Okay, I'll tell the others. See you, Draco."

"Bye." Draco waved to her as she left and started winding his way though the other students, looking for an empty compartment. He found one at the end of the car and ducked inside, locking the door once Tom had followed him in.

"Once we start moving, you need to go find Harry and bring him back here so you can talk to him alone," Tom said as he sat down near the window.

"With you here, of course."

"Well, he'll think you're alone, at least," Tom said casually. "I have to be here to make sure you don't mess it up."

Draco rolled his eyes as he sat across from his older friend. "You're the one who wanted me to do this in the first place. You could at least show some confidence in me. And you know I'm right," he snapped when he felt a wall of cold fury come from Tom's direction.

"Perhaps, but you're the one who doesn't want to do this, and you're the one who hates him. I think there's a good chance you'll mess it up."

Draco glared at him and stood again to stalk over to the door. "I'll be back with him, then you'll see."

"Call him 'Harry,'" Tom suggested as Draco slipped out of the compartment and slammed the door shut behind him.

Draco made a slight face as he started walking though the car; call him 'Harry,' right; only Tom would suggest that. He seemed to have no problem calling Potter by his given name. Draco wasn't quite so comfortable with the idea, especially if they weren't even on civil speaking terms.

He almost missed he compartment as he passed it, only realizing it was the right one when he saw a flash of red hair out of the corner of his eye. He turned back and took a deep breath before opening the compartment door, his eyes immediately seeking out Potter.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Weasley asked immediately, standing up. Potter hardly even twitched to acknowledge his presence.

"I was looking for Harry," Draco answered, glad that his voice didn't shake. Potter looked up in surprise, his eyes wide and wary.

"What for?" Weasley demanded, taking a step forward. Draco raised his hands defensively to show that he wasn't armed and meant them no harm.

"I just want to talk to him, Weasley. Is that a crime now?" Draco turned his attention back on Potter and offered him a hand. "Will you come with me?"

Potter eyed him warily before he nodded and stood. Weasley let out a strangled exclamation.

"Harry, you're not really–"

"It can't hurt to see what he wants," Potter murmured, sounding tired. Draco smile faintly when Harry took his outstretched hand.

"I'm truly sorry for what happened to your sister," Draco said to Weasley, lying through his teeth, though he managed to sound completely sincere. "I may not like your family very much, but you're still purebloods, and a loss for you is a loss for all purebloods."

Weasley stared at him in shock for a moment before whispering softly, "Thanks, Malfoy."

Draco nodded and stepped out of the compartment, pulling Potter with him.

"Are we going somewhere?" Potter asked, looking confused.

Draco smirked back at him. "Yes, I got a compartment all to myself. I'd rather no one see us talking civilly just yet. It might give the other students heart attacks."

Potter only smiled weakly and looked away at the ground. Draco watched him for a moment, frowning slightly at the younger boy's silence.

"I meant what I said," he stated after a moment. "I am sorry she died."

"I know. Thanks, Malfoy."

"Call me Draco."

Potter looked up at him in surprise, and Draco just shrugged. "I want to work out our differences and offer my friendship again, so I'd like it if you'd call me by my given name."

"Why would you want that?" Potter asked in shock.

"Because having someone I knew die made me grow up a little," Draco answered, hoping he sounded sincere enough. "No matter how little I actually knew her, it really did affect me. In here."

Draco pushed open the door to his compartment and followed Potter inside. He smirked inwardly when Potter sat right next to Tom and had no idea he was next to someone. He locked the door and took the seat across from his guest, sending Tom a very brief, triumphant look.

"All right, what did you want to talk about then?" Potter asked as soon as Draco had settled, watching him with wary eyes.

Draco sighed and forced himself to look as sincere as possible, something relatively easy for him as he'd been taught how to act from the moment he was born. "I'd like to apologize for how awful I've been to you for the past couple years. I know I have no excuse for my behaviour, but I'd like to apologize all the same."

"I'm sure that's not all," Potter said suspiciously.

"No, it isn't. I'd also like to know why you didn't accept my friendship in the first place and started all this."

Potter gaped at him. "_I_ started all this? What are you talking about?"

"I offered you my friendship and you turned me down," Draco said bitterly. "So yes, you started all this."

"You insulted the only two friends I'd ever had!" Potter exclaimed. "Of course I turned you down!"

Draco paled, his eyes widening. "Only friends...ever?"

"Yes, Ma-Draco, ever! What, did you think I had people bowing at my feet and hundreds of friends?"

"Yes," Draco answered, serious and completely honest this time. "That was exactly what I thought."

"Why?"

"Because you're Harry Potter. You're the most famous wizard of our time, and many people see you as more pure than Dumbledore. It makes perfect sense to think you'd been brought up as a prince, with no cares or worries and more money and friends than you could possibly need."

Potter laughed, the sound so bitter Draco shuttered. "Of course, because I'm famous, I must be living the life of a prince. Did you know I didn't even know I was a wizard until I got my Hogwarts letter?"

"You're kidding!" Draco exclaimed. "But you're–"

"Harry Potter, yeah. And that makes no difference at all to my relatives. In fact, they probably hate me more because I'm so famous. Yes, _hate_, Draco. My relatives hate magic. They hate that I'm related to them and that they have to take care of me. To them, I'm an abomination. I never had friends or love or money or any of that before coming to Hogwarts."

Draco saw Tom shift out of the corner of his eye and hurriedly said, "So, what do you mean I insulted your first _two_ friends? I only insulted Weasley as far as I'm aware."

"And you insulted Hagrid that day we met in Madam Malkin's," Potter said shortly. "Either way I wouldn't have accepted your friendship. You were an arrogant little snot. And really, I haven't seen much yet to change my mind about you."

"That was two years ago, Harry," Draco said desperately, acutely aware of Tom's eyes on him. "We were barely eleven then. I'm almost thirteen now; my birthday's in a week. I've grown a bit since then."

Potter studied him with a sceptic eye, as though he could read the blond's mind and find out the truth. After a minute, he sighed and looked away at Tom's Disillusioned knee. "I don't believe you, but I'm willing to give you a second chance. Only one second chance. If you screw that up, we'll go right back to how we were before."

"I understand. I won't mess up," Draco said with a nod. Potter gave him a hesitant smile and held out his hand.

"Okay, I'm Harry Potter, half-blood and Muggle-raised."

Draco took the hand with a very faint smile. "Draco Malfoy, pureblood, wizard-raised. It's nice to meet you."

* * *

Draco looked around curiously as he and Harry stepped through the barrier that led from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters to the Muggle worlds, his Gryffindor friends in tow. After starting off on a new foot, he and Harry had talked for most of the train ride about almost everything, and they'd had a surprising amount of things in common, love of Quidditch not included. He'd hardly even noticed when the train had begun to slow until Tom had moved to sit next to him and whispered it in his ear. He was sure he'd had more fun with Harry that afternoon than he'd had in years.

"There they are," Harry said suddenly, pointing at a group of people nervously waiting nearby. Draco eyed them with disgust; he'd never seen a boy so large in all his life, or parents so ghastly looking. He was very glad that he wasn't related to these people.

"I actually feel sorry for you," he murmured as they walked over. "And I never thought I'd feel sorry for anyone in all my life."

"Thanks so much, Draco," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes.

"I do. They're horrid. Are you sure you can't just stay with the Weasleys? Why do you have to keep going back to these Muggles?"

"I don't know," Harry answered, shaking his head. He suddenly seemed far more depressed than before, almost like he had when Draco had asked to talk to him. "But I don't think staying with the Weasleys is a good idea right now..."

"Hmm, maybe." Draco stopped and turned to him. "Owl me as soon as you get home, all right?"

"I may not be allowed–"

"Then I'll owl you and we'll use my owl all summer. Anyway, I have to go; my parents will worry. See you next year, right?"

"Right. And Draco..." Harry smiled bigger than Draco had seen all year. "Thanks for talking with me today. I'm really glad you decided to try being my friend again."

"Me too," Draco answered with a return smile. He waved as he turned and left for the barrier again, just missing the suspicious glance Harry threw at his back.

"You did very well," Tom murmured as soon as he was on the wizard side of the mirror. "I'll admit, I was impressed. You almost had me believing you for a while."

"I know, and he completely fell for it!" Draco said with a soft laugh. "What a fool."

"You mean none of that was genuine?" Tom asked, sounding surprised. "Perhaps you're a greater actor than I gave you credit for."

"Nope, none of it," Draco answered automatically. Then he frowned and thought about it. "Well, maybe a little..."

Tom merely let out a soft hum of agreement beside him. Draco didn't bother to ask what the older boy was thinking now, as he doubted he would get a sufficient answer.

"How are we getting home?" Tom asked after a moment of silence.

"With a portkey. That's how I always travel, because I'm not old enough to Apparate. My parents have it, and all my luggage too, I bet, by now. Look, there they are." Draco nodded his head toward the two blond figures standing in the shadows. Tom smiled and nodded.

"Your father's the Malfoy by birth, correct?" he asked as they headed over. "I can see the resemblance. And your mother is...?"

"A Black, but she doesn't really look like the rest of the family."

"Ah, I see. There were no Blacks at school while I was there, so I couldn't tell. Your grandfather was there while I was, though. You and your father look just like him."

Draco would have commented, but they'd reached his parents, and it would look very odd to be speaking to nothing. Lucius eyed him coldly as he stopped before them.

"Are you finally ready to go, Draco?" he asked softly. Draco ducked his head, immediately ashamed.

"I'm sorry for making you wait, Father. I was saying goodbye to some of my friends and lost track of time."

"It's all right, Draco," Narcissa said before Lucius could comment. "It happens to the best of us."

"But not to Malfoys," Lucius said as he held out a small silver snake. "I hope you will not make that mistake next time."

"Of course not, Father," Draco answered. He reached out to touch the silver snake and felt Tom's hand brush his own as he did the same. He barely heard his father speak to activate the portkey or felt his feet leave the ground as he became rather lost in thought. He'd have to find Tom a suitable hiding place one they got back to the manor, and make sure Tom could eat and have access to the library, and write to Harry. His life had suddenly become very, very interesting, and with Tom by his side, he was sure it would stay that way.


	3. Another Talk

**Sound of Silence**

**Chapter II: Another Talk**

As soon as their feet touched the floor in the receiving room of Malfoy Manor, Tom moved to whisper in Draco's ear, "I need your wand again."

Draco sent him a confused look, one that did not go unnoticed by his parents, before pulling out his wand and handing it over. The atmosphere of the room immediately tensed as Tom took the wand and tapped himself on the head, removing the Disillusionment Charm. An instant after Tom became visible, Lucius had his wand out and his eyes narrowed at him.

"Who are you?"

Tom smiled politely as he handed the wand back to Draco. "My name is Tom Riddle. I was once the occupant of the diary you so kindly planted at Hogwarts."

Lucius' eyes narrowed further. "I was informed that you and the diary had been destroyed."

Tom nodded once. "The diary, yes, but clearly I was not. I tricked young Harry into believing he destroyed me, and undoubtedly, Dumbledore collaborated with his story to prevent questions."

Lucius eyed him for a moment, then slowly straightened, though his wand did not move a fraction; Tom admired that. He'd always admired displays such as this from purebloods. "Why are you here, Mr Riddle?"

Tom spread his arms in mock surrender. "Forgive me, but I do not wish to discuss this in such a public place, Mr Malfoy. Perhaps we could go somewhere more private?"

"Of course." Lucius's cold eyes flicked over to his wife and son. "Narcissa, I'm sure Draco is tired from his trip."

"Of yes, of course. Come, Draco." Narcissa hastily guided Draco out of the room; Tom merely gave Draco a faint smile when the blond sent him another confused look.

"My study is private enough," Lucius said, turning to follow them. Tom nodded and walked with him out of the room, noting absently that Lucius's grip on his wand had never eased. He had always be fond of purebloods.

Lucius led him up three flights of stairs and down a maze of hallways, finally stopping at a door that looked no different than the rest. Tom didn't wonder how Lucius could tell which door was the right one; even though he was sixteen, he could sense the layering of enchantments on the door. Lucius tapped his wand twice on the door and several locks clicked open. Without glancing as his guest, the man pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Tom knew as soon as he followed and looked around that he had made the right decision in revealing himself to Draco's father. Not only was the entire room covered in object that sang with Dark magic, but in the corner sat several cauldrons of bubbling potions, several only partially finished. Oh yes, Lucius Malfoy was a perfect edition to his plans.

Tom took the chair offered to him and calmly sat back, watching as Lucius locked the door again and sat down behind the desk. Only then did Lucius take his hand from his wand, setting it on the desk before him.

"I would like to know why you are here," Lucius said after a moment.

Tom smiled faintly. "I did say I would tell you, didn't I? I am here for two reasons. The first is that it would be suicide to remain at Hogwarts over the holidays while Dumbledore is aware that I am still alive. The second is that I need your help in a few matters."

Lucius blinked in surprise but recovered quickly. "I see. Why is it you have come to me?"

"I have heard much about you," Tom replied, "from both Miss Weasley and your son. Most importantly, I know you are a Death Eater—"

"From whom did you hear that?" Lucius demanded.

"Miss Wealsey, on numerous occasions. I only had to mention you and she'd begin ranting about it."

"It is lie," Lucius said forcefully. "I was under the Imperius Curse."

"I see." Tom lost his polite smile and moved to stand. "I must admit I am disappointed you would be so quick to renounce your old master. I am wasting your time. Good day."

"Why would you be interested in old Death Eaters?" Lucius asked before Tom could get far.

"Where else to start an army but with my old supporters?" Tom answered.

Lucius paled dramatically. "_Your_ old...?"

"Ah, but perhaps you didn't know? It would be like Dumbledore not to tell you if he thought you were involved." Tom walked back over to the desk and took up Lucius's quill. He calmly wrote TOM MARVALO RIDDLE on a black piece of parchment, then under it, crossing out each letter in his name as he copied it, I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.

Lucius's face turned paper-white. He glanced between Tom and the parchment several times before finally bowing his head submissively. "Forgive me, my lord, I did not know."

"Of course, it is understandable. You had no reason to trust me," Tom said as he sat down again. "I trust you will be more cooperative from now on?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Very good." Tom sat back again and regarded Lucius with a blank expression. "I will be needing the supplies to make Polyjuice potion, as soon as possible. I need to have an adequate supply by September."

"I can easily procure those for you, my lord," Lucius said, looking mildly confused. "May I ask why—"

"No, you may not. I will also need to make a trip to Diagon Alley as soon as possible. I need a wand, as well as a few other things."

"We can go as soon as you wish it."

Tom nodded once. "Also, I trust I will be able to stay here for the summer? If not, I do have another place I can go—"

"That won't be necessary," Lucius interrupted. "You are most welcome here."

"Good. You have my thanks." Tom stood and turned to leave, then just as quickly turned back. "One last thing, Malfoy," he murmured, a very dark look on his face. "You are not to breathe a word of any of this to anyone, especially Draco. If I discover you have, there will be consequences. Nor are you to act anything less than normal in public. Do you understand?"

"My lips are sealed, my lord," Lucius said with a bow of his head.

Tom smirked faintly. "See that they stay that way. Now, if you would, I'd like to talk to Draco, explain a few things to him."

"I'll show you to his room—"

"That won't be necessary," Tom interrupted. "You have house elves, I'm sure? I'd like one of them to show me."

"Yes, of course." Lucius seemed shaken for a moment, but he'd regained his careful composure in an instant. "Zilla!"

A very tiny house elf appeared with a _crack_ next to the desk. She bowed so low the tips of her floppy ears nearly touched the floor. "Yes, Master Lucius?"

"Zilla, this is Tom Riddle," Lucius said, gesturing to Tom. "He is going to be staying with us during the summer. You are to be his personal servant during that time."

"Yes, Master Lucius." Zilla bowed once more to him, then turned and bowed just as deeply to Tom. "Is there anything you is needing, Master Tom?"

"You are to call me by my last name, for starters," Tom said as he moved toward the door. "And I'd like you to show me where Draco's rooms are."

"Yes, Master Riddle. You is following Zilla!" the house elf squeaked, gesturing for Tom to follow her as she walked out of the room.

Tom gave Lucius a mocking bow before walking out after her. The elder Malfoy had not impressed him; in fact, Lucius had fallen quite far in his eyes simply from that one comment about being Imperiused into joining the Death Eaters. He would have to work quite hard from now on to redeem himself, and Tom was sure he knew it.

"Master Draco's rooms is on the second floor," Zilla commented as they walked. "They is over looking the Mistress's garden and the Quidditch practice fields beyond that. They is very nice rooms."

"They sound very nice," Tom said softly. "Are there any rooms near his that are empty?"

"Oh yes, there is a room next to Master Draco's no one is using. Zilla is showing Master Riddle when we is getting there!"

Tom nodded, looking around in interest. He would need to know how to get around this place after all. "Is there a library here?"

The house elf nodded enthusiastically. "Oh yes, Master Riddle, we is having a huge library. Zilla has been getting lost in there many times. Zilla often shuts her ears in the oven before going now because Zilla knows she is having to later."

Tom smiled faintly; this house elf seemed to have taken a liking to him or thought he would be less likely to punish her for talking too much. Either way, it could prove useful. "Where is it?"

"On the first floor and the ground floor. We is having such a big library, it has to be on two floors."

"That sounds wonderful," Tom said, genuinely thrilled. What Dark secrets could the library in the Malfoy manor hold for him, secrets that would never be at Hogwarts?

"You is enjoying reading, Master Riddle?" Zilla asked boldly.

Tom smiled faintly; oh, this would be too easy. "It is one of the few pleasures I enjoy in life."

"Master Draco is enjoying reading too!" Zilla squeaked enthusiastically. "He is often spending hours in the library or in his room reading!"

"Yes, Draco and I share many interests," Tom commented absently. Indeed, Draco had often mentioned the books he was reading while Tom had been trapped in the diary. He looked forward to reading a few of them himself now.

"You and Master Draco are friends?" Zilla asked, obviously surprised.

"We have been friends for several years now," Tom said with a nod.

"Then you is even more welcome here, Master Riddle! Master Draco is Zilla's favorite—" She suddenly paused, looking horrified, and began hitting herself in the head with her tiny fists. Tom almost allowed himself to just stand back and watch, but he was sure he would have more influence over this elf if he intervened. He grabbed her wrists and held her arms still until she stopped struggling.

"Zilla is very sorry," the elf murmured. "Zilla was almost very disrespectful."

"You can tell me. I won't tell anyone," Tom said as her let her go. "I'll be our secret."

Zilla beamed, nodding enthusiastically. "Master Riddle is very kind! Like Master Draco." She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Master Draco is Zilla's favorite master. He is always very kind to Zilla and lets Zilla have lots of special privileges. Zilla likes to think she is Master Draco's favorite house elf."

Tom was faintly surprised by her boldness; he didn't think she'd say quite so much even with permission. It didn't completely surprise him, however. He'd been there when Draco and Harry had started arguing on the train about Harry's freeing the eccentric elf Dobby. The Malfoys seemed doomed to have odd house elves.

All this must have shown on his face, because Zilla suddenly looked very abashed. "Zilla has spoken too boldly again."

"No, no, I did tell you it was going to be our secret, didn't I?"

Zilla beamed again. "Master Riddle is very, very kind!"

Tom just smiled faintly.

"Here is Master Draco's room!" Zilla suddenly announced, stopping before a set of doors near the end of a hall. "Is Master Riddle wanting to see Master Draco now or is he wanting to see the empty rooms?"

"I'll see Draco first. I'd like a tour of the mansion, and he will probably want to come along," Tom said as he moved forward to knock on the door. A faint, "come in," floated through the door and Tom slowly turned the handle. "Wait here, Zilla."

"Yes, Master Riddle!" Zilla chirped.

Tom stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, looking around. Draco was lying on his stomach on a huge green bed, feet kicking in the air above him, his nose practically buried in a large book. He didn't look up when he heard the door close, but his legs did drop back down to the bed.

"Put it on the desk. I'm not hungry right now," Draco said, gesturing vaguely at a large desk.

"I'm glad you're not. It would make things difficult," Tom commented. Draco started badly and immediately moved so he was facing the older boy.

"Tom! What happened? What did you have to talk to Father about?"

"Various things, my young Malfoy, most of which you would find terribly boring." Tom smiled as he walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. "One thing was whether or not I could stay here during the summer. It was rather rude of me to wait until we arrived to ask, after all, but I could not risk being seen in the station."

"And? What did he say?" Draco asked eagerly.

"That I may stay. Your father is a very kind man."

Tom flinched inwardly when Draco suddenly latched onto him in a tight hug, as that had hardly ever happened to him before, but allowed it. It would help him earn the blond's undying devotion after all.

"This is so great!" Draco exclaimed when he finally let go. "We can go flying every day, and I can show you the gardens and the menagerie, and we can bully mum into taking us to Diagon Alley once a week, and—"

"Draco," Tom said, placing a light hands on his arm to calm him. "That does sound nice, but we both also have lots of work to do during the holiday, or don't you remember?"

Draco sighed and pouted up at him. "Of course I remember. But I think we should have a little fun too. When was the last time you had any fun?"

"Two days ago, in the Chamber," Tom said at once. It was true; he couldn't remember having more fun than when he'd been taunting Harry into killing his friend.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I mean _real _fun, like flying or playing Quidditch, or...something where you don't really need to think. Something relaxing."

Tom frowned, getting slightly impatient. What was good about doing those sorts of things? They never got anyone anywhere. He had far too much to do to worry about things like that.

"We should at least go flying every week," Draco said stubbornly.

"I have a lot I need to do, Draco," Tom said, his eyes narrowed. Had Draco always been this bold?

"Me too, but I always make sure to have some fun," Draco answered.

Tom eyed him for another moment before he sighed and nodded. This was going nowhere, and he had other things to do than argue some asinine point with Draco. "Very well, we'll do something...fun. But only occasionally. I do have a lot to do."

Draco beamed but didn't hug him again. "Good. I'll make sure you keep that promise."

"I'm sure you will." Tom stood and gestured for Draco to do the same. "I did come in here to ask if you'd like to give me a tour of the mansion. I'm sure you know where everything is."

"I'd love to!" Draco exclaimed, jumping from the bed. He grabbed one of Tom's hands and tugged him toward the door. "C'mon, we'll have to start now or we'll be late for supper and Father hates it when I'm late."

"I'm not surprised. I am sure your father is a busy man as well."

"Very busy. Oh, hello Zilla," Draco said when he opened the door and saw the house elf standing there. "Did you need something?"

"Zilla is waiting like Master Riddle told her to," Zilla answered, shaking her head.

Draco blinked in surprise and glanced between Tom and the elf. "What do you mean?"

"Your father placed Zilla under my care for as long as I'm here," Tom explained. "Zilla was going to show me the empty room near yours, but I wanted to talk with you first."

"Does Master Riddle still want to see the room?" Zilla asked eagerly.

"Yes, thank you."

Zilla bounced over to the door next to Draco's and pushed it open. "This one, Master Riddle."

Tom stepped inside, looking it over critically. It was very obviously not being used as the only furniture was a simple bed, desk, and wardrobe. He did, however, notice a door in the wall that the room shared with Draco's.

"Is that a real door?" he asked.

Zilla nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, Master Riddle. It connects with Master Draco's room."

Tom looked around for another moment before turning to Zilla. "This will be fine. I'd like to stay here during the summer. I need you to furnish it a bit—curtains, bed sheets, basic things like that. All in black and green. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Master Riddle!" Zilla said enthusiastically. She moved forward into the room and immediately began waving her hands about in random patterns.

"C'mon, Tom, I have to show you the mansion!" Draco said, tugging on Tom's hand to drag him out of the room. Tom hurried to catch up with him, smiling faintly at his enthusiasm.

* * *

"I'd like to go to Diagon Alley today," Tom said at breakfast a few days later, his eyes rising to meet Lucius's, "if that works for you, of course."

"That's fine," Lucius said immediately. "We'll go after breakfast."

Tom smiled faintly and nodded. It felt very good to be able to order someone around with such ease.

Draco looked between them curiously. "Can I come too, Father?" he asked finally.

Lucius opened his mouth to speak, just barely adjusting his answer when Tom briefly shook his head. "Not this time, Draco. Perhaps later in the summer, closer to the beginning of school."

Draco pouted, but he wasn't done yet. "Why are you going now, then?"

"I need a few things, as soon as possible," Tom said calmly. "A wand, books, that sort of thing. And Dumbledore won't think I'd be so bold as to appear in public mere days after the end of school. It will be much safer to go now."

"Oh. Okay," Draco said, though he still sounded disappointed.

"Besides which, I need to get you a birthday present," Tom added. "You wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, would you?"

Draco blinked in surprise and shook his head. "Oh! No, of course not!" But Tom could easily see the cogs start moving in his head as he tried to come up with a way to find out what his present was before his birthday.

Tom stood after a few moments and headed for the door. "I shall be waiting by the front door when you are ready, Mr Malfoy."

Tom did not have to wait long; almost before he'd stopped completely, Lucius was walking up behind him, a traveling cloak over his arm. He was glad to see that Lucius had lost the misconception that Tom might think favorably of him and had his gaze respectfully lower than eye level.

"Will we be using a Portkey?" Tom asked, though as he expected, Lucius shook his head.

"It will be easier to Apparate. Are you able to?"

Tom allowed himself a faint smirk. "If I were, do you think I would be asking for your assistance?"

Lucius seemed taken aback for a moment, but the moment was brief and then he was pulling open the front door and gesturing for Tom to follow him out.

"We'll have to walk out beyond the Anti-Apparition wards," Lucius explained as he closed the door behind Tom. Tom merely nodded and began walking.

"We will need to go our separate ways once we get there," Tom said after a few moments. "It will cause awkward questions if you are seen with me."

"Yes, my lord."

"And obviously I will not be able to get into my Gringotts vault, so I'll need some money..."

"Of course, my lord." Lucius pulled a heavy bag out of his cloak and handed it to Tom, who pocketed it without a word. "This is far enough," Lucius said a moment later. "Take my arm."

Tom did so and he nearly gasped as Lucius turned on the spot and he was suddenly unable to breathe, his body being compressed very hard from all directions. His first thought was of treachery until the sensation suddenly ended and he, discreetly, took in great gasps of air, and by looking around, he saw that they'd arrived in the alleyway behind the Leaky Cauldron where the entrance to Diagon Alley was hidden.

Lucius, he noticed, was watching him very closely. "Not a fan of Apparition?"

"I think other methods of travel are preferable ," Tom replied. Lucius smirked faintly as he drew out his wand and tapped the appropriate brick.

"Yes, so do I."

Tom ignored Lucius as soon as the entrance to Diagon Alley had formed and he stepped forward on his own, looking around curiously. In fifty years, the place had not changed much; perhaps it seemed lighter than before, but he had expected that. Most of the shops were the same; the first one he didn't recognize was Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor and he found it rather hard to simply walk on by; ice cream had always been a soft spot for him.

He smiled very faintly when he reached Ollivanders and stepped inside; the shop was just as he remembered it. Even the little tinkling bell that rang when he opened the door made him feel more at home. He had always liked Ollivanders, and the owner had never scared him as he seemed to other people.

"Good morning," said a soft voice. Tom hardly moved except to look to see where it had come from; he was used to Mr Ollivander's habit of sneaking up on people. He'd come to visit the old man several times fifty years ago.

"Good morning, Mr Ollivander," he said with a faint smile at the creepy man.

"Ah, Mr Riddle, how good to see you again," Mr Ollivander said, hardly showing any signs of surprise, though Tom knew his presence must be a shock. "And looking so young, too. One might think you'd built yourself a time machine."

Tom smiled enigmatically. "No, I merely discovered the Fountain of Youth."

"Ah. Of course, only you, Mr Riddle. What can I do for you today?"

Tom shrugged slightly. "I am no longer in possession of my old wand. It pains me to ask, but I require a new one."

"Hmmm, yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. A very nice wand, very powerful. And you don't have it anymore?" Mr Ollivander asked, looking rather stern all of a sudden.

"No, I'm afraid the Fountain did not work on it," Tom said, shaking his head.

"Hmmm." Mr Ollivander frowned slightly, looking him over. "You were a particularly difficult customer, I remember, particularly difficult."

"Yes, I spent nearly an hour in here," Tom recalled with a faint smile.

"Hmmm, yes. Well, let's see if I have something that will take to you."

Mr Ollivander began flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes and muttering to himself. Tom sat down on the spindly chair near the door to wait.

He didn't have to wait long before Mr Ollivander hurried back over to him with a pile of boxes in his arms.

"Well then, Mr Riddle, let's try this one first. Ebony and dragon heartstring, eleven-and-a-half inches, springy."

Tom took it with surprise—he'd thought Mr Ollivander would bring back wands similar to his old one—but he'd barely touched it before it was snatched away again.

"No, no—perhaps this one, hazel and pheonix feather, ten inches, very sturdy."

Tom was not at all surprised when it soon seemed like he would have to try every wand in the shop before he could find the right one; it had been like this last time, after all. He found it rather amusing that the more wands he tried, the more excited Mr Ollivander became.

"Still just as fickle, eh, Mr Riddle? But I'm sure I have a good match for you here somewhere—ah, maybe this one, African blackwood and phoenix feather, twelve inches, a very powerful combination."

Tom took the wand and immediately felt the kind of warmth in his fingers he'd felt once before. He gave the wand an experimental wave and a stream of silver and green sparks shot out. Mr Ollivander smiled broadly.

"Oh, very well done, well done indeed! I knew you would have a another match here!"

"I never doubted it, Mr Ollivander," Tom said as he handed the wand back to the man. "You are the best wand maker, after all."

"Well, I must admit, I had my doubts for a moment," Mr Ollivander said as he placed the wand in its box, "but of course, the wand chooses the wizard, and this one obviously likes you!"

"Thank you," Tom said softly as the box was handed to him. "How much is it?"

"Eight Galleons."

Tom paid for his wand and wished Mr Ollivander a good day as he left the shop. Then he turned down the street and headed for Flourish and Blotts, intending to spend the rest of the morning there.

After buying almost a dozen books, he indulged his secret desire and had a psudo-lunch at the ice cream parlor where he quickly became friendly with the owner. Then he walked the length of Diagon Alley and turned left into Knockturn Alley, the only place in the wizarding world other than Hogwarts where he felt comfortable.

No one gave him a second glance as he walked though the dark alley, and he never expected them to. He did, after all, have more right than any of them to be walking this street. However, he certainly watched the others in the alley closely, both seeing whether he could find the children or grandchildren of those he had gone to school with and judging how dark those in the Dark Arts were nowadays. He was highly disappointed by what he saw; he clearly had some work ahead of him if these fools thought shrunken heads were Dark.

After walking the length of the Alley, he turned back and began turning into certain shops that had caught his eye the first time around. For the most part, he didn't buy anything; only one item ended up in his hands, and it was just so he could keep up his story of buying Draco a birthday present. However, he knew that he would need a good deal of money for what he really wanted, so when he entered Borgin and Burkes, the money bag in his pocket was still almost full.

He knew from the few times he had visited this shop before that no one would be behind the counter, and no one was, but that didn't matter. He had no wish to speak to anyone yet. He would much rather look around first to see if what he was looking for might be on display.

However, after only a minute, he heard a door slam closed and turned to see why. Behind the counter stood a man he vaguely recognized as Mr Borgin, staring at him as though he were a ghost. Tom merely smirked and headed over; he couldn't blame Mr Borgin for looking so shocked, but it was still vary amusing.

"Good afternoon, Mr Borgin," Tom said with a slight bow of his head when he reached the counter.

"M-Master Riddle, how...how nice to see you again," Mr Borgin stuttered, giving his own bow a second too late. "You're looking very...well today. How might I be of assistance?"

Tom didn't bother to act charming with this man; undoubtedly, he would do whatever was asked of him regardless. "I'm looking for a few items. I am unsure of where they might be or what magic might be protecting them, but recovering such items is your specialty, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir," Mr Borgin murmured, now looking uneasy rather than stunned. "Do you have a list of the items?"

"I do not, unfortunately," Tom said, with a slight scowl. "Even I do not know what they might be. I have my suspicions, but nothing more than that. However, I have an example so that you know what to look for."

With that he drew his old diary out of his pocket and placed it on the counter. The hole from the basilisk fang stood out prominently, but he could still feel traces of the magic that had bound him to it curling about its pages, He had been most relieved when he had discovered the ruined book in his many explorations of the manor.

"This one is destroyed," Tom explained as Borgin picked up the diary. "But there should be five others, all with the same signature."

"_Five_...?" Borgin gasped, staring at him in astonishment. "But that's impossible! Life in such a state—"

"Then you know what it is?" Tom asked, pleased when Borgin nodded wordlessly. "Good. I had hoped so, but it was always possible you might not."

"And there are five others?" Borgin asked again.

"There should be. Again, I do not know for certain, but it was always the intention to create that many. I will assume you know how to destroy them?"

"Yes, of course."

Tom smiled faintly. "Then I have a list of places you might consider searching—with maps included, naturally." He placed a stack of parchments on the counter as well. "I also know that you should be looking for anything that once belonged to the founders of Hogwarts, particularly Slytherin."

Borgin licked his lips nervously. "This...may take some time. Years, perhaps."

"You are worried about your business," Tom stated and Borgin nodded hesitantly. "Have you an assistant?" Borgin shook his head. "Hire one, but tell him nothing. I will pay his wages and ten thousand Galleons for each item you collect and destroy. Is that acceptable?

Borgin gaped at him for a moment before giving him a deep bow. "I shall do as you've requested, sir. You won't be disappointed."

"I should hope not. I'll be sending someone to check up on you occasionally, but I'm sure you realize how important this is."

"Yes, of course, sir."

"And not a word to anyone, Borgin," Tom said as he turned to leave.

"Naturally, naturally," Borgin murmured, bowing again.

Tom stepped out of the shop with a cruel smirk on his face, feeling very pleased. It may have taken his future self decades to gain control of the wizarding world, but he would not make the same mistakes. Soon, he would be the only one left, and he could begin his second conquest in earnest.

* * *

Draco sighed as he walked into the library and saw Tom sitting in a large chair by the window, a heavy tome balanced in his lap. Tom seemed so content that Draco almost turned back, but he knew the older boy needed a distraction. The only thing it seemed like Tom had been doing for the past couple weeks was reading.

Draco stalked over to the older boy and shut the book in his lap before he could react. Tom was still for a moment, then turned a mild gaze up on him.

"Did you need something, Draco?"

"Yes," Draco said, crossing his arms. "I want you to come flying with me."

"Oh, I see. Well, if that's all..." Tom moved to open the book again, but Draco placed his hand on the cover, faintly annoyed. He hadn't thought Tom would be very interested in the idea, but he hadn't expected to be completely disregarded either.

"All you've done all summer is read," Draco complained. "And I like to read too, but everyone should relax once in a while."

"This is relaxing," Tom replied, gesturing vaguely at his book.

Draco snorted softly. "It is not. You've been treating every book like a textbook. Come on, I've finished all my homework, and I want to go flying--"

"Go, then--"

"With you," Draco finished, giving Tom a petulant look. Tom stared back at him, eyes narrowed, just as unwilling to back down.

"I don't have time," Tom said after a moment.

"Just come this once," Draco pleaded. "If you don't like it, I won't ask again."

Tom stared at him for another minute before he sighed and glanced longingly at the book in his lap. "All right, I'll come flying with you. But just this once. I have a lot of reading to get through this summer."

Draco beamed as Tom placed the book on nearby table as slowly rose to his feet. "You'll feel differently after this."

"I'm not much of a flyer," Tom said. "It was the one part of the wizarding world I could never quite get."

"I'll help you," Draco said, heading for the door. "I'm a great flyer."

"I'm sure you are," Tom muttered as he followed. Draco just smirked back at him.

Two Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones waited near the back door, right where Draco had instructed the house-elf to put them. Draco grinned when he saw them, but Tom turned pale and stopped in the doorway.

"You actually meant flying-flying..."

"Of course I did; what other kind of flying is there?" Draco asked, amused, as he strode over to the brooms.

"Draco, I think you would enjoy it much more if you went by yourself," Tom said, not moving an inch. Draco frowned over at him; why was he being so difficult?

"I don't think so..."

"You'll be spending the whole time correcting me," Tom argued, his eyes fixed on the two brooms.

"I don't care," Draco answered, though it sounded distracted. He was busy studying Tom's expression. He followed Tom's line of sight to the brooms, then back again, and his eyes widened slightly. "Tom, are you afraid of flying?"

"No!" Tom bit out, a little too harshly.

"I think you are," Draco countered, smug that he'd figured it out.

"I am _not_ afraid of flying," Tom growled, his dark eyes flashing red.

"Afraid of heights, then," Draco said, not deterred in the slightest. "There must be some reason you're so adamant about not flying."

"I'm not afraid of heights either!" Tom exclaimed.

"Then what are you afraid of--"

"Nothing!"

"Prove it," Draco said simply, gesturing at the broom floating at his side. Tom took a couple steps forward before stopping again, staring at the broom with an indiscernible expression on his face.

"I don't see the point of this," he said after a long moment. "I don't have to prove anything to you."

"Because you don't want me to see that you really are afraid," Draco pointed out.

"I'm not afraid!"

"Then come flying with me," Draco said with a smirk.

Tom scowled and grabbed one of the brooms before stalking off toward the Quidditch field. Draco smiled in satisfaction as he mounted his own broom and followed him. Draco stopped to hover next to him when he paused, staring at his broom again.

"If you really don't want to, I'll go on my own," Draco said, feeling a little bad for teasing his friend.

Tom scowled up at him, swung his leg over his broom, and kicked off. He hovered uncertainly for a moment, then shot off toward the broom shed on the edge of the field. Draco grinned as he watched Tom duck inside and come back out with a Quaffle in his hands.

"If you want to fly so badly, we might as well play a bit too," Tom said as he came back. "Get everything done with at once."

"How'd you know I was going to ask to play with you?" Draco asked.

"You're very easy to read," Tom answered simply, throwing the Quaffle at him.

"Not as easy as you," Draco retorted, throwing it back. Tom just smiled evilly and shot off past him down the pitch.

Draco was actually extremely surprised by how good Tom was. The older boy reminded him of Potter in a way; they moved with the same natural grace rather than his own trained reflexes. A couple times as they passed each other in the air, he noticed that Tom's knuckles were white as he gripped the handle of his broom, but other than the initial reaction, Tom showed no signs of fear or apprehension. Draco almost envied him.

Far too soon, however, Tom sank to the ground and dismounted his broom, dropping it. Draco landed next to him and frowned when he noticed the other boy's pale complexion.

"Are you alright?" he asked in concern.

"I'm fine," Tom said shortly, "but I can't waste any more time on this. I have too many other things to do."

Draco smiled faintly; Tom was a horrible liar. "Okay. Thank you for flying with me, even though you didn't want to."

Tom gave him a weak smile. "I had a good time...thank you for dragging me out here."


End file.
